


Bail Interlude

by dogmatix, norcumi



Series: Blackest Circle [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Bail is not having a good day, GFY, Gen, Suitless Vader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 23:59:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10978110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogmatix/pseuds/dogmatix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: A little bit more on Vader, and the extended cut of the Bail Scene, now from Bail's PoV.





	Bail Interlude

‘Lord Vader’ sits like an ill-fitting cloak, but in a lot of ways, it’s easier than being ‘Anakin Skywalker.’ As ‘Lord Vader,’ he doesn’t have to be kind, or gentle, or patient, and he’s not sure he could be any of those things right now. It feels like he was burned hollow, there on Mustafar, and any tears he has are saved for the middle of the night, when he wakes up screaming from another nightmare of Padmé dying. His mind loves to expand on the theme, too: Obi-Wan, dead in his arms, his twins’ lifeless bodies small and cold in his bloody hands. Not that Obi-Wan survived Mustafar any more than Anakin Skywalker did.

The ache of loneliness is sharp and cruel, but there is no one to turn to now, and he dare not reach out to his children. Not with Palpatine watching him like a hawk. It’s not obvious, his new Master’s regard, but Vader is coming to understand just how little Sith truly trust each other. It lends a bitterness to his rage.

Vader feels like he’s falling apart, sometimes, what little there is of his soul spilling out through the cracks in his mind. Memories of a dying Padmé and a hateful Ben dog his heels, along with the trusting, upturned faces of so many Jedi initiates. Sometimes being ‘Vader’ is all that keeps him going, because as Vader, he has a goal: kill Sidious.

It’s difficult finding a place to start, though. The clones in the military are being rapidly replaced or assigned to dead-end positions as the military expands. The ones that remain, that don’t go angry and blank-faced when he walks by, are hardly trustworthy. He’s not sure the clones would be the right kind of allies, either. Vader and Ben will be the ones to kill Sidious – what Vader needs in his allies are people of influence, people who can help prevent a complete descent into chaos and civil war after Sidious is dead. He might be an evil baby-killer and all-around murderer, but he plans to leave his children a galaxy worth living in.

Vader makes allies where he can, which isn’t many, especially given that he can’t afford to seem friendly towards anyone. It’s not until fortune drops a half-dead tortured resistance fighter – not that there’s much of a Resistance to speak of – into Vader’s lap, that he thinks there might be a way to accomplish that second part of his goal.

* * *

It had been a long day, and Bail had yet to receive word that one of his better agents had checked in. One more day and they’d have to scrub clean any potential affiliation they had with him. He had hours of Senatorial minutia to work through as well, for all that it was becoming more and more obvious that it was all pointless wheel spinning.

He palmed open the door to his office, his droid assistant trailing behind him. It might have been Jedi mind tricks or merely his own distractedness, but the result was the same: the first he realized he was not alone when a voice declared, “You need to update your organizational security.”

Bail froze. For a moment, he toyed with the notion of drawing the blaster he carried for self defense, but since that was more likely to be a death sentence – as if any of this wasn’t – he left it in its holster. “Lord Vader,” he said, gratified that years of politics allowed him to appear normal.

As normal as one could be, when the Emperor’s feral perversion of a Jedi sat in Bail’s chair as if it were a throne. Force, but he loathed that this was what the Jedi Order has been reduced to.

“Senator.” Vader didn’t rise. Instead he gestured, and the visitor’s chair rotated smoothly; an order couched as invitation for Bail to sit. He refused, of course. For all that it might be useless posturing, he would not sit at Vader’s command.

That earned him a narrow look, the uncanny yellow and red eyes almost searing through Bail. “I have a dead insurgent in the Emperor’s personal holding cells that managed to name you and several other politicians as ringleaders in a little rebellion against my master.”

No. Oh gods, no, they could not be undone, not like this. “My Lord– ”

Vader waved a hand, cutting him off with the grand gesture and just enough pressure around Bail’s throat to remind him that not only was the Rebellion in ruins, he was now a dead man. Lightsaber, the Force – Vader had countless ways to slaughter him. “I know treason when I see it, Senator,” Vader drawled. “I also know blackmail when it’s right in front of me.” Bail blinked, not sure what that could be. The only blackmail he could imagine for Vader involved Senator Amidala, and she was dead _and_ a dear friend – he would not sully her memory in some vague hope that Anakin Skywalker’s obvious attraction could somehow embarrass the Emperor.

“I do not, however, have a firm grasp on politics. That’s where you come in,” Vader continued, to Bail’s increasing confusion. The shark’s grin was less confusing and more terrifying. “You will teach me the intricacies of politics, and you will tell no one of it.”

Oh. Blackmail on Bail, that made more sense. He finally surrendered to the madness of the moment, stepping forward to sit down. His legs wouldn’t support him much longer, and he wanted to salvage at least some dignity. “Teach you politics.”

Anakin Skywalker, no matter what name he wore or what depraved acts trailed him like shadows, still retained an unimpressed, incredulous glare. “You have objections, Senator? Doubts about my capability to learn?”

Given some of the things he had heard about Vader’s bloodlust, he had many, but he knew better than to even think them. “Questions about your motives.”

Vader’s grin was all teeth. “My master’s court is already a nest full of vipers, and it’s only going to get worse. My position grants me some leeway, but I _must_ understand what’s going on.”

“I don’t understand. You could ask anyone; why me?” Why someone he had just caught at treason? There were countless others who would be more malleable, with less... _explosive_ threats to hold over their heads.

Vader didn’t look impressed. “Well, you have to admit you have some... _incentive_ to do a good job.”

Bail glared at the man for being deliberately obtuse. There was something more here, he _knew_ it, but damned if he could pin down _what_. “But why do you even need to know? You take your orders directly from Palpatine, why does it matter if you can read the political currents in his court?” He hesitated, eyes widening as the implications hit home. “Are you– do you–” He sputtered to a stop, not daring to voice the idea that Vader might be plotting against the Emperor. If he was, then he had every reason to leave Bail’s affiliates alone. The ‘blackmail’ would be dual purpose, both a means to control Bail and to undermine Palpatine.

The way Vader ignored the question, did not even bother to deny it, was telling. “I don’t like not knowing where the threats are. Now, do we have a deal?”

The potential for something more like a co-conspirator than a master made Bail bold. “And- and if I don’t agree?” he asked, as if he had any reasonable choice.

Inhuman eyes of yellow and red met his. “Then you’re a threat,” Vader declared.

Force. Vader’s pet politician, or dead. Serving ambiguous aims of a known psychopath and murderer, but apparently a murderous psychopath that might be looking to overthrow a tyrant.

In the end, there wasn’t really any choice at all.

“All right. We- we have a deal.”


End file.
